Work Text:
Mind Trap
The sun crept up slowly on the horizon, promising a beautiful and cloudless day. It was early autumn on the mountain, cool enough to still enjoy coffee on the front porch without the need for winter gear. The leaves were magnificent colors of gold, orange, and red; a breathtaking sight to take in while sipping from a steaming mug. Conversation wasn’t needed; nature did all the work.
Hutch shuffled out with two mugs of fresh, hot coffee. He was a lot slower these days, his knees and hands riddled with arthritis. Morning coffee was his duty and he fulfilled it with patience and dignity. As he got through the doorway his heart sank a little. He took a deep breath while setting the mugs down on the little table between the outdoor chairs.
Starsky was frantically patting himself down, his silver curls bobbing to and fro as he became more agitated. The plaid throw Hutch had carefully tucked him in was a tangled mess on the floor. “Hutch! What are we doing? I can’t find my badge or my gun! We’re already late for work. Dobey’s going to have our asses on traffic duty!”
Hutch stepped to the side of the chair so Starsky could see him. Starsky looked up, his blue eyes faded, and his mind trapped in another time. “Why are we in pajamas? We need to move!”
Hutch knew better than to try to comfort him with a touch on the shoulder. He stood back, calm, patient, and softly said, “Starsk, we’re not late. It’s okay.”
“Yes we are! Dobey’s gonna have our asses!”
Captain Dobey had passed on years ago. His grandchildren checked in on them weekly. Hutch learned long ago when Starsky was in a spell, it was just better to go with it. Reality only caused more agitation and seemed to extend the moments. “Captain Dobey has everything under control. He’s not going to be upset with us.” ‘This damn disease.’
Starsky was escalating. “Where’s my gun? My badge?” He looked past the porch. “Where’s my car? Hutch, where is everything?” His eyes were becoming wilder and his movements more frantic.
“Hey buddy. Easy. You always park the Torino in the back because you don’t want people to know when we’re up here. Remember?” ‘It’s stealing more and more of you away from me. All of our dreams.’ Hutch stopped his thoughts, but one more slipped through. ‘At least we got our cabin on the mountain.’ Hutch wasn’t angry. He’d accepted what life handed to them long ago. His worry these days were whether or not he would check out before Starsky. To have them go together would be a perfect scenario, but decades of life taught him things never wrap up neatly. At the age of 78, he was keenly aware of having more runway behind them than in front.
With surprising strength, Starsky latched on to Hutch’s forearm and pulled himself up. “Where? I can’t find the keys!”
A flash of pain coursed through Hutch’s arm, and he gently tried to loosen the grip. “We’ll go take a look at it. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Starsky still trusted his partner. That, gratefully, had not been stolen from him. At least, not yet. He nodded and loosened the grip but didn’t let go.
Hutch grabbed his cane, propped up next to his chair, and with Starsky on his arm guided them down the two steps of the porch onto the gravel pathway to the back.
Walking seemed to calm Starsky enough to stop patting himself down. As they got to the back the Torino came into view. It had driven its last mile years ago and sat in complete disrepair. The windshield was cracked and covered with dust and bird droppings, the candy apple red faded to a strange pink color, the tires were dry-rotted and flat. Streaks of rust were threatening to overtake the entire body. When Starsky’s keys were taken, Hutch made a point of keeping it washed and in fairly good condition. Until he just couldn’t anymore.
Starsky had the same shocked reaction he always had. “My car! What happened to her? Hutch…” he dropped to his knees, openly crying. “Awe, Hutch.”
Hutch closed his eyes and breathed. These were the most painful moments. He dropped to his knees next to his partner, deciding again to deal with the arthritic knees later. A look into his buddy’s eyes told him he had a part of Starsky back. They knelt there for a bit, Hutch waiting patiently for Starsky to gather himself, knees screaming the entire time.
Starsky wiped the tears off his face. “Sorry about that. I hate cryin’. Are we going to have coffee? Shouldn’t we be on the porch?”
Hutch smiled. It was a tired, patient, loving smile he would always give Starsky once he got through these moments. “Sure. Let’s get our old asses up and get back to the porch.”
Starsky was confused, not sure what happened, but still maintained complete trust in Hutch to lead him wherever he needed to go.